Deb turned over onto her side away from Clancy. “Whatever.”

Doriann could have pounded her head on the ground in frustration.

Zelda assisted while Jama sutured Scott Hammersmith’s wrist. It was a bad cut, needing a two-layer closure, but it came together nicely, and there was no muscle involvement. Jama was relieved. Scott’s whole life consisted of fishing and hunting.

“Scotty, honey, you don’t know how lucky you are today.” Zelda watched Jama’s work with obvious admiration. “What you’ve got here is a family-practice doc who’s got the skills of a surgeon. She knows just where to place the sutures so-”

“Uh, don’t do that.” Scott’s face was still nearly as pale as the towels draped over his arm. “Would you please not give me a play-by-play, Zelda? If I pass out in here, the guys’ll never let me forget it.”

“You’re doing fine,” Jama assured him. “And even if you did pass out, we’d never tell a soul.”

Scott switched his attention from the far corner of the room to Jama’s face, clearly not wanting to observe the action. “You’re as pretty as ever, Jama Sue.”

“Now, Scott, no flirting with the doc,” Zelda said. “You’re a married man now. Besides, you don’t want to distract her from her work.”

“I’m not flirting, I’m just saying…well…anyway.” Some color returned to his face.

“You know what, Dr. Keith,” Zelda said, “I might’ve been a little hasty turning down Dr. Ruth’s offer this morning.”

Jama completed her final suture and took a second to study her handiwork. The scarring would be minimal. Then Zelda’s words registered.

“Don’t call her Dr. Ruth to her face. And are you saying what I think you are?”

“I might talk to her about a part-time job.”

Jama and Scott exchanged a look. “Part-time?” Jama asked.

“Well, it’s not like this place will be overcrowded in the first couple of weeks, is it?”

“You never know. Judging by the amount of traffic we’ve had so far, we could have our schedule packed.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt me to try it on for size,” Zelda said. “It’s awfully good to be able to work with you again, see how far you’ve come. Besides, I’ve got these new, high-tech shoes that make me feel like I’m walking on clouds, so it’s not like I’ll have too much trouble standing on my feet all day. I could try it for a while.”

Jama felt some of the load slip from her shoulders. She met Zelda’s gaze and nodded.

Jama sent Scott out with scripts for an antibiotic and pain meds, with instructions to return. She watched with relief as he and his friends said goodbye and trooped out the front door, trailing the faint scent of smoke behind them.

She turned to find her director standing with arms crossed, leaning against the threshold of the reception office.

“He needed an appointment,” Ruth said.

“He can call when we have the office set up to schedule appointments.”

“You could have made one for him and entered it into the computer later, once you’ve figured out how to do it. And he needed printed instructions about wound care, and a doctor’s pass for work.”

Jama ran her tongue along her teeth before speaking. “A doctor’s pass? There was a fire. You think his employer doesn’t know what happened? This is River Dance. Everybody in the Missouri River Valley probably knows about it by now. Everyone also should know we’re not set up for clinic hours yet.”

“Keep it in mind for future reference,” Ruth said as she walked toward her office.

Jama was still frowning as she entered the suture room to find Zelda wiping down the tray table.

“You heard?” Jama asked.

Zelda nodded. “It’ll be okay.”

“She intimidates me,” Jama said.

“Maybe you should take a look at her from my end of the life cycle. She’s not so intimidating then. She’s a young woman, probably in her late thirties, if that, and she’s overwhelmed. Probably never directed a clinic before, never had this much responsibility.”

“You think she’s still in her thirties?” Jama asked. “She seems older than that.”

“Lots of things make a person look older. Stress. Bad experiences, whatever.”

“Hello?” came a slightly annoyed voice from the hallway. “Am I being psychoanalyzed by people who don’t even know me?”

Jama and Zelda looked at each other sheepishly when Ruth entered the room, arms crossed, chin out.

“Well, it was supposed to be a private conversation,” Zelda said. “We didn’t expect our eaves to be dropped.”

In spite of herself, Jama couldn’t help reevaluating her director’s appearance. There was a stiffness in the way she held her mouth, a tightness around her eyes-which were, now that Jama was paying attention, pretty-in fact, Ruth looked as if she could be friendly. If she ever smiled. The lines in her face were not deep.

“I’m thirty-eight-not that it’s anybody’s business. And neither is my private life your business. I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts about me to yourselves.”

“Well, folderol,” Zelda muttered. “That yanks it. Even if I did want the job, I’m not getting it now.”

There was a surprised pause. “I thought you weren’t interested,” Ruth said.

“It’s not like I’m ready to give up and sit at home, so what else am I going to do? Lately I’ve been working three or four times a week, long shifts, long drives to Columbia or Jeff City. It’d be easier and quicker to walk across the street than drive halfway to the moon and back.”

“Then you’re hired,” Ruth said. “That’ll get one position filled and cut down on the interviews considerably.” She turned and walked out, leaving Jama and Zelda to stare after her.

“She doesn’t waste much time, does she?” Jama asked.

“Suppose she’s that desperate?”

“I warned you,” Ruth called back from the hallway. “Jama? Are you coming? We need to get someone hired to answer the phones.”

Doriann opened her eyes to the sight of gray-pink wood. She froze. She’d fallen asleep again! What if…

She turned her head slightly, straining to see if someone might be standing next to her, listening for the sound of Clancy or Deb breathing above her, for the sound of footsteps, sniffing for rotten breath.

All she smelled was damp dirt beneath her, and a faint green scent of grass. All she heard was a loud snort, then a quiet snore from inside the barn.

Relief.

Carefully, Doriann pushed herself to her knees and tried to see through a crack low on the barn wall. There was something in the way. She stood and rose up on her toes to a crack higher on the wall, but she heard a sudden noise, a brush of movement inside.

She froze, scared to breathe for several long seconds. Then came the snoring again. She probably wouldn’t be able to see inside where it was shadowy, but if there were other cracks in the walls, and if Clancy and Deb had left a door open…just maybe she’d be able to catch sight of something.

She leaned closer to the wall, until her nose touched the rough wood. She saw shadows that took shape as she focused. She saw the skinny body of Deb, all angles and sharp points, where she lay on a broken hay bale. They had left the door open-or it had fallen off. Clancy was stretched out beside Deb, lying on his back, arms under his head.

Deb was the one snoring, her mouth wide-open, jaw slack.

Doriann studied the two of them. They didn’t look so scary in their sleep. She wondered what kind of people they might have been if not for the speed. Aunt Renee said the drugs did awful things to people.

Of course, most people didn’t turn into killers just because they took drugs. But sometimes, according to Aunt Renee and Mom and Dad, drugs could take people over and turn them inside out, make them do things they’d never do if they were straight.

So if Clancy had never taken drugs, maybe he would be a schoolteacher or a bus driver. Or maybe a doctor or a famous chef with his own cooking show. Maybe Deb would be an airline pilot or a captain of a ship or a senator.